Eun Ae: A Misfit's Guide to Hogwarts
by Maelody
Summary: My name is Eun Ae. I have a temper, I can't stand most of my friends, I'm not even in a proper bloody House! Since my birth my life has been far from normal. Especially at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!


Chapter One:

There is something terrifying about going to a new school. When you're younger, the kids don't seem to notice or even care that you're new, as long as you shared your toys. Being older, it gets a lot harder. Those kids aren't the same anymore, so no one remembers when you gave them your last crayon because they broke theirs, or that you punched Camron Young in the face for calling your best friend a sissy. Actually, nothing matters at all because those new kids know nothing about you. Your only chance of surviving the teen years are to have trendy clothes, the perfect attitude, and an extra amount of sass. I guess I have none of those because I never made a new friend at my last school.

The last school I went to was a secondary school in London. It was the third time in my life I was labeled 'New Girl'. That's what most people call me, by the way. Ever since Gran and I began our great adventure all over the United Kingdom (about nine years ago), the kids at whatever new school I was attending would call me New Girl. Of course, the teacher would say my name on my first day of class so everyone would know who I was, but I never bothered answering the students when they asked me what my name was once they forgot. I used to try and tell the kids what my name was when I was younger, but they couldn't understand my hand signals and got annoyed with me very quickly.

Oh, that's something I haven't mentioned yet, isn't it? My hand signals. You see, the thing is, I'm deaf. I wasn't born deaf, however. In fact, I once had perfect hearing and was the most talkative little tot around the neighborhood before I turned six. To set the record straight, that was a little over nine years ago (you've just missed my birthday by the way). My going deaf was not the worst thing to happen to me when I was six, unfortunately. In fact, it would have been a lot easier accepting my disability if I had my mum and dad with me every step of the way. Instead, I lost both of my parents at the age of six _and _went deaf. On the same day too, if you can imagine that.

Normally I wouldn't bother telling someone this story (well, I would, but they wouldn't bother sticking around long enough for me to sign the entire story to them) but I may as well tell you what happened to me. I am sitting alone here on a train after-all. I'm sure I look absolutely depressing to the students strolling past my lonely compartment of one (plus you).

At the age of six years old (don't worry, it wasn't on my birthday, Christmas, or any other cliché holiday like that) I was living in South Korea with my mum and dad. We were going out to eat when something terrible happened. I remember seeing a strange man with a mask on at the corner of an overly crowded street. He held out some sort of stick (which I later found out was a wand) and pointed it right at a gas station across the street. My dad must have seen the strange man too, because he grabbed Mum and I and pushed us into the side of a building. He tried protecting the both of us, but Mum was so angry at him for pushing the both of us for no explainable reason and she ducked out of his protection. He was still able to save me from the explosion, but Mum and him weren't so lucky (and neither were my ears). There was no explanation for that strange man to blow up half of our community, but he did. In the end, there were thirteen survivors and sixty-seven casualties.

I am one of those thirteen survivors, and my parents are number sixty-six and sixty-seven of the casualties. I would have had my memory wiped like the other twelve survivors if I hadn't been told the bad news that _I _was just like that man. The Ministry of Magic came to me, a six year old child, and explained to me I was a magical little girl. My parents were what is known as Muggles, so they didn't have any powers like that man and I do. Of course, this entire scenario was dumbed down a bit for me because my head felt like something was trying to split it in two and my ears were ringing so incredibly loudly (the last noise I ever heard). I wasn't able to hear them (and my lip reading skills were nothing back then compared to what they are today) or sign to them, so they wrote everything down for me to read. At first I didn't understand because they didn't necessarily understand that I didn't know what the words wizard, magic, and devastation meant, but I got it in the end. My parents were dead because some lunatic was given the privilege to wave a wand around. He wasn't just any lunatic, either. Apparently he was a part of some dark organisation in the so called 'wizarding world'. It didn't matter to me anymore, though. I didn't want to have anything to do with whatever that man could do.

The Ministry sent me to my only living relative (Mum's mum) in Scotland. She, like me, hated anything magical after what happened to her daughter and son-in-law. Determined to keep me away from becoming one of the said lunatics, she decided we would steer clear of them entirely. She forbade me to do any magic (which was fine by me) and to live as _normal _(not Muggle because that is still technically a magical reference) as I could. Of course, moving in with Gran was the first time I ever had to switch schools. It was easier then, despite being freshly deaf, to make friends.

On my eleventh birthday, there was a little surprise waiting for me in the kitchen. There was an owl perching smack-dab in the middle of our kitchen table with a letter in its beak. When I read it, I dropped it and screamed loudly so Gran would hear me. She read it out loud so I could read her lips and she signed at me feverishly. We had been doing such a good job at keeping normal, I completely (well, almost) forgot I was... one of those lunatics. Gran, as wonderfully smart as she was, decided to burn the letter and ignore it. If she didn't want me to go, I wasn't going to. You can imagine how awful my eleventh birthday was because of the incident, but it was no where near as terrible as it was the following three days.

Gran tried, she really did, to burn all of my letters. I tried shredding them (which proved to be exhausting because they were so thick) and even burying them, but the owls continued to come. So, naturally, I was forced to go to my next new school in Dublin. Being eleven, it was a little harder to make new friends and still manage a sense of self control after such a dramatic change. With the owls and letters aside, I found it relatively easy to become friends with the girl I sat next to. Her name was Aine, and since the school year was nearly finished, we decided to spend all of our summer holidays together. This school, however, was not meant to teach me. Both Gran and I believed we would be safe living so terribly far from home, but it seemed like the magical people followed us.

An ancient looking woman (well, far older looking than Gran anyway) was in my room when I went home one day. Apparently Gran didn't know anything about the woman's presence and she went completely bonkers when she found her talking to me upon her arrival. The woman introduced herself as Professor Minerva McGonagall. She was the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Of course, we didn't need to wait for her to explain where she was from because we read the letters she sent us one too many times to make sure they were absolutely positive I belonged in their school. Being Gran, though, she was definitely positive the school did not need me.

Once we managed to tell the McGonagall woman to bugger off (OK, so not exactly in those words), Gran started packing immediately. There was no use staying in Ireland anymore because they knew where we were. I'm sure you've guessed by now, but this was the start of my adventure to school number three.

Even though it was only a couple of weeks or so since my eleventh birthday, and my second different school since then, I didn't bother getting to know anyone in my class. I was still eleven, and by the looks of it, these magical people were still coming after me. Who knew how long they were going to continue trying to get me to go to Hogwarts? Though I did gather that most students go to that school when they are eleven. So if I could just hold out until I was twelve years old, maybe they wouldn't bother me anymore.

My hypothesis was correct. If I kept my nose out of trouble and stayed clear of any magical folk, then I would be home free. My twelfth,thirteenth, _and _fourteenth birthday went completely unnoticed by Professor McGonagall, owls, and anything else that was related to _those _sort (such a shame, too. I used to love owls). I didn't have many friends to be honest, since I was so reclusive in the beginning, but Gran and I were doing well with only having each other for company.

Well, three times certainly was proving to be the charm. It was my third school, which allowed me to stay for three years. You've probably caught on by now on how I keep talking about it like I don't go there anymore. Well, you would be correct if that is what you came up with. School number three worked out _too _long. Something was bound to happen soon that would cause Gran and I to move again, I just didn't know what. Then, when I went home, my suspicions (like yours) were correct.

Professor McGonagall was sitting in my kitchen with a very stern expression on her face. She looked exactly the same as she did three years before. Only, somewhere in her stern gaze was a contorted soft expression. I called out for Gran's help, but no one came for my rescue. At first I didn't understand, but then the change in the McGonagall woman's expression caught up with me.

"Your grandmother passed away this morning, Eun Ae," McGonagall told me with a sense of stern compassion (If you were me you'd realise how helpful her stern lips were when trying to lip read). "There is no place else for you to go."

The realisation crashed down on me pretty hard. Not only did Gran die _two weeks _before my fifteenth birthday, but my only friend and protector was gone. This woman in front of me would force me to go with her to learn magic and there was nothing I could do about it. I needed some place to go, but Gran was my last living (not so living now I guess) relative. I thought I would have the entire summer to mourn and plan my escape, but McGonagall pretty much made that impossible by making me pack my things immediately and accompany her to a place I could stay over the holidays and also get my school things.

The place I ended up staying at was called _The Leaky Cauldron, _and leaky it was. The only place to get food was downstairs and I was terrified to go down there half of the time because of the amount of magical people waiting for me. A man named Tom continuously came up to check on me, creeping me out every time he did so, _and _(worst of all) McGonagall forced me to get one of those stick things (even though I tried to absolutely refuse ever getting one) so I would be ready for school. The stick just sat across from me as I stared it down, making sure it did nothing while I was watching it. I was incredibly relieved when I was allowed to leave the place, but completely dreading it because it now meant I would be heading to the freakiest place of all the freaks put together: Hogwarts.

Now, my dear friends, that is where I am right now. Not Hogwarts, of course, but pretty damn close enough. I am sitting in a lonely compartment on the Hogwarts Express, freaking out and absolutely furious about this whole situation. So, if you'd care to join me, I would be happy to share my story with you (even if I'm not all that enthused about it all together).


End file.
